


Rude

by quicksparrows



Series: Illustrated Collaborations with Emmy [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 18:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: There's nothing wrong with the other men in her life, but the truth is, there's something about Felix that just hits Dorothea differently.[Illustrated]
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Illustrated Collaborations with Emmy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552522
Comments: 7
Kudos: 188





	Rude

**Author's Note:**

> Me: how is your day  
Emmy: Bored but tired .... just listening to classical music and thinking about Felix pounding Dorotheas pwsissy  
me: same tbh
> 
> Text by yours truly, art by Emmy.

“Felix?”

Her voice was all high and breathy, but her expression was classic Dorothea. Smug. Needling. He was already stretching so he wouldn’t pull a muscle and end the night early. What more could she demand of him?

“What?”

“You know, sleeping with men usually goes one of two ways — they’re either complete scoundrels or they’re so eager to please you feel pressured to have a good time.”

Felix dropped into a long and low lunge. His hamstrings pulled pleasantly. He looked at her and watched her splay her legs on the bed. Her short skirt dipped between her legs just enough to hide her pussy, but Felix knew she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He trained his eyes on her face. He knew it would annoy her to not be slobbered over. It would turn her on more, too.

“I know,” he said. “Ferdinand and Sylvain. You gripe about them all the time.”

“It’s not that they’re bad,” Dorothea replied. She pulled her skirt up an inch to tease, but Felix just switched legs. He frowned as he found a spot in his ankle that felt tight when stretched. He must have done something funny to it when training earlier. “They just need more practice.”

“I don’t think sleeping with me will help you with that,” Felix said. He stretched his arms up over his head.

“But while I work on them,” Dorothea replied, “_you_ do what I want.”

Felix stood up.

“Enough banter, I don’t have a lot of time tonight,” he said. “Lift up your skirt.”

Dorothea smiled.

“Bossy, today,” she teased. More of a taunt, really. “Why don’t you come here and lift it yourself? Maybe there’s a surprise underneath.”

Felix rolled his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what constituted a ‘surprise’ when lifting up her skirt, especially when he’s seen that girl’s business several times already. Maybe she’d shaved? Sylvain had once yammered on about girls’ shaving twee patterns into their body hair. Felix didn’t care much about that.

He cared most, admittedly, about being a better lay.

“You come here,” Felix ordered.

Dorothea lounged back against the pillows, letting her legs fall even further apart. Her skirt lifted an inch in the process and Felix trained his gaze on her defiant expression. _Make me._ He’d make her, then.

He took her by the ankles and dragged her down the length of the bed. Dorothea gasped and snickered, but he paid her no heed. She thought it was cute until he pulled her right to the edge, and then, realizing he would actually drag her right off, she instinctively tried to put her feet down. He let her, and before she could complain about his bossiness again, he stooped and kissed her hard.

Dorothea gave a muffled protest against his lips, and then she leaned into him, her arms falling around his neck. He looped an arm around her ribs and hefted her to her feet. She made no effort to bear her own weight — typical — until he put his other hand under her skirt and cupped her. He groaned into her mouth when he found her to be wet already. For someone who took such pleasure in being a pain in his ass, she sure did anticipate his arrival for their odd little “dates.” Probably couldn’t help fingering herself. Her pubic hair was cropped after all, too. What pattern didn’t matter to him.

“Felix,” she murmured, breaking off from his lips just to breathe in his face. He pressed the tip of his middle finger to her entrance, the heel of his palm firm against her. She gasped. She kissed him again, harder still than he kissed her, and when he didn’t push into her, or tease her, or stroke her, she ground herself against him. Her eyes were furious. Impatient.

“You’re always so eager,” he muttered. “No patience at all. I bet that’s why you like men like Ferdinand and Sylvain — you say jump, they say how high.”

“They’re gentlemen,” Dorothea said, still trying to rub herself against his hand. She smiled even as her breath picked up. “Unlike you. You’re very rude to me, you know.”

“Sylvain, a gentleman?” Felix replied, skeptically. He withdrew his hand and took her wrist instead, and he turned her roughly. He nocked her wrist up to her spine, and she gave a yelp that turned into a laugh. Felix pressed his hips to her backside. He put his mouth to her ear and added: “I’m rude but I do what you want, is that it?”

She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of a response, but she pressed back against him anyway — no doubt partly from desperation, partly because of the gentle twist he put on her arm. Her skirt was caught between them, and he bit back a little noise as his cock ended up under its lacy hem. Control was important. Not that she understood that in the slightest — she was always like this, chasing after him, trying to catch him on a free evening, not an ounce of discipline in her. If she wasn’t catting around, she was letting her feelings rule her.

Watching her alternate between suffering through her crush on a man she hated and her lust for a man who would never commit to her was excruciating.

Well, that wasn’t Felix’s problem.

He didn’t have problems.

He gave her a little shove — he didn’t let go of her arm, naturally, but it was the easiest way to communicate _please brace yourself_. Dorothea put her free hand on the bed to do just that, and she looked back at him. Her long auburn hair fell in her face, and one lock caught on her moist lips.

“That’s it? No foreplay?”

Her brows furrowed of him, annoyed, but her mouth curved into a smile. It felt challenging. It felt like a dare.

“That’s not what you want,” Felix uttered. He kept her wrist right where it was, and with his free hand he flipped her skirt right up. He allowed himself a glance at her bare ass against his cock. He was plenty hard. He had prepared himself, too, after all.

He guided himself into her. She was wet, but she was tight, and she made a _noise_ as he pushed past that initial resistance and sank, inch by inch, until he was fully seated in her. For a moment, he relished her little tremble — her the tense of her thighs, the pushback against him.

Then he pulled back, slowly but surely. Dorothea keened, and Felix exhaled slowly, steadily. When maybe she thought he would ease back in, he snapped his hips forward. She went down from her hand to her elbow, gasping his name. He started up a pace: snappy and rude, just the way the others wouldn’t treat her. She repeated his name, higher. He pressed on harder.

There was something about watching her give up on holding up her own weight that did something for Felix. Dorothea went face down on the duvet, her spine arched and her ass up in the air. He eased up on her arm until he was merely holding it, and he felt her go weak-kneed under him, but he kept pounding into her a moment longer, refusing to let her go, not when the angle of her hips let him hit deeper, hit in just the right spot. She wailed and tossed her head to the side and through the mess of her hair she _looked_ at him and Felix looked away, feeling his face grow hotter than it already was.

And Dorothea, being the brat she was, only got louder. She was playing it up, and Felix only survived two of those wanton moans before he wrestled her further up the bed and off her feet so he could just pound into her with his full body weight, and she could do nothing but relish it. He let go of her hand and instead snaked his hand between her and the bed, and down between her legs until he found her clit.

“Oh, Felix,” Dorothea gasped under him. “Ooh—“

She came, shuddering under him, and he kept fucking her until he did too: much quieter, but with no less twitching and shaking of limbs. Felix gasped, and he stilled atop her. His calves burned from the effort of staying balanced. He felt a bead of sweat run between his shoulder blades and down his spine. A tiredness settled on him, but it was a pleasant sort of tired.

Dorothea brushed her hair from her eyes. Her face was flushed, and though he was still seated deep in her, she twisted best she could to touch his face.

“I don’t know how you do that,” she said, breathily. She nudged him like she might want to kiss him again, but Felix just buried his face in the nape of her neck.

“Practice,” he said. “Discipline.”

(One thing Felix was sure Sylvain nor Ferdinand understood, at least not yet, was that flashiness didn’t matter. Pace and consistency was key.)

Dorothea scoffed at him and laughed, and then she elbowed him hard.

“Okay, now get off,” she said, and she persisted until he conceded and climbed off her. “Honestly, Felix.”

“What?” he asked, reaching for the cloths he’d left at the bedside for exactly this purpose. He sat at her side and mopped her up with one, using the same impersonal efficiency he might employ to clean his sword of bodily fluids after a battle. Felix imagined Ferdinand _loved_ cleaning her up after, and that Sylvain had condemned every woman he ever slept with to dribbling as they walked back to their own room. 

“You’re a scoundrel,” Dorothea told him. “But at least you make it worth it.”

He scoffed, but he was amused, too.

“You’re welcome,” he said.


End file.
